


A Face Made Of Soft Clay

by zephalien



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Canon Autistic Character, Crying, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:43:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephalien/pseuds/zephalien
Summary: this is a poem about wanting to be allowed to show my mental illness symptomsthis is a poem about a man telling me to stop crying in a homeless shelterthis is a poem about how ive never been allowed to cry





	A Face Made Of Soft Clay

please stop telling me to stop crying

please stop telling me to stop crying

please stop telling me to stop crying

please  
please  
please

when i wander the streets my skin is exposed its constant pain it hurts me i cry  
the tears are noticed by those around me 

a danger  
in a city that doesnt want me  
wont see me properly  
and wants my tears gone  
my face must be clear  
preferably smiling

men say this most  
women listen and they let go of me

much kinder than most but these things cut deeper than when someone causes me pain   
hurts worse than a wound

I see your face the way you watch me move  
the way my twitching gives me away

perhaps anxiety group doesn't help if you are the most anxious one in the room

if you watch the door the whole time

both checking that its closed and wanting badly to open it

perhaps being in a place with broken people makes the sensations of my skin the pains i am feeling hurt worse  
maybe that feels like raw skin burnt on hot coals  
raked  
sobbing  
deadened and destructive

i hide my sadness from the people who live on the streets  
the ones who have done this longer

the ones who know how to   
want  
to   
live

They see me as a potential  
a chance  
hope  
they see me and tell me to cheer myself up  
(unaware of my inability)  
they say its hard to lose everything  
(ive lost two things only two. I had nothing to lose before now.)  
(All the things I've lost is just me  
and you)  
(my love)  
(im afraid if i dont cheer up when they say so that i will lose you more truly than this)  
(im scared of what happens when i dont stop being sick)  
(im safe with you since youre sick too)  
(these people wont leave me alone)

I want to cry

yes thats what I said

I WANT TO BE CRYING

i have lived a miserable life, more than I ever knew til someone made me alive.

If you have been hurting your whole life you learn tricks to mask your tears  
if you have been sobbing for your whole life you learn to create a flowing river of horrific secret sadness inside your organs  
(it hurts them to do this; a body collecting permanent damage through anxiety turned inward)  
you become skilled at not showing on your face the way you are crying more truly

when you stop eating and stop drinking and stop smoking and stop living

as a coping technique

it feels like living to let your tears finally fall

the man sitting in front of me believes I cant help it  
I say so myself

I could stop in an instant  
yet I refuse

DID YOU HEAR ME?  
I REFUSE TO STOP CRYING  
I REFUSE

i want to be crying  
i want to be crying  
i   
want  
to  
be  
allowed  
to  
hurt  
the  
way  
i  
hurt

if people asked me how to help i could tell them  
they dont ask  
and when i try to tell them they refuse to listen

a body that has been tortured for living   
for coping  
for surviving

its a fucking happy day for me to get to mourn properly

perhaps i should sit in cemetaries   
then my tears would be allowed to me

i mourn my own self

they dont understand  
they think i believe what theyve told me  
they think im hurt because ive been hurt

its more complex

and im tired of not allowing my tears

and im tired of men insisting i do it

i want to be crying  
im sad  
i want to cry about it

i want to throw my body down on the ground and scream

it would feel incredible

the moments i allow the sounds of sobbing to slip

and nobody sees

is like a delicious secret only mine

im sad  
i want to be crying

do they really believe that the sadness leaves me because i mold my face into a pleasing shape?

do they believe ive actually quit crying

the people who ive shown the sadness inside me to  
for real  
that have glimpsed it  
for real

they want to give me something to cry about

and i do  
i cry for them  
i mourn their cruelty

if they see me and hurt me because im hurt i can only imagine what wounds they inflict on themselves when no ones looking

perfect smooth skin isnt always a good sign  
sometimes its a mask  
as much as most of me is  
as much as anyone could ever create inside themself

i am true  
i am honest  
and   
i am sad

I Want To Be Crying


End file.
